Attention Please
by Mushucollins15
Summary: Santana convinces Blaine to take French class, just to mess with the young new teacher, Mr. Kurt Hummel, and Blaine reluctantly agrees. He eventually realizes what a great plan it is. Teacher!Kurt and Badboy!Blaine.
1. Chapter 1

**This is for day 2 of klaine week on tumblr, and since I was already writing this for Sabrina, it was perfect timing! So anyways, warnings for language and faint mentions of bullying. Anyways, you all should follow me on tumblr, my username is brotherinahole **

**Extra Note: The outfit Kurt is wearing is the same one he was wearing on the show when he was singing love shack. And for Blaine, just picture Darren with his hair ungelled and in a reddish t-shirt. Then you have the look! **

**Anyways, I hope you enjoy this, and I should update this pretty frequently since I really love this idea. Please review everyone, it makes me too happy for words!**

Blaine Anderson sat back against his chair, propping his feet on the table in front of him. "Why the fuck am I even taking this class?" he asked himself. His best friend Santana heard him, and tried to sit in his lap, grumbling when Blaine shrugged her off and put his feet back down, now irritated.

"Well, it's because there's a new teacher this year, remember?" she responded, her ponytail bobbing as she spoke and tilted her head to the side. Instead of trying to sit on his lap again, she took the seat next to him and crossed her legs. "And we had plans to make them cry," grinning, she raised a thumb up and winked.

"I don't even like French though," Blaine grumbled, rolling his eyes at Santana's unintentional, and if he ever told anyone she was acting this way, she would kill him, dorkiness.

"Deal with it Anderson," Santana smirked, muffing his hair and laughing when he smacked her hand away. They had been best friends since freshman year when Santana had protected him from being bullied by her current boyfriend at the time, a junior named Tom. She had shrieked for him to let Blaine go, bitching him out in a mix of Spanish and English slurs until he apologized. Ever since, they were inseparable, going almost everywhere together. Somehow, Santana had even convinced her counselor to make it so all of their classes were the same. She wouldn't tell him how, so he didn't ask.

Santana ended up getting on the Cheerios halfway through her freshman year, and Blaine had to learn how to protect himself. He had always liked boxing, but never tried to use it on someone before. Then, one day in late May, a slushee was thrown at him and he had had enough. He beat the shit out of the kid, and also his best friend for trying to get in the way. Of course, he got in more trouble than the two popular boys, but he didn't even care because that had felt so _good. _

Then, things started to change. Blaine's attitude had changed for the worse, maybe not in Santana's opinion, but for his family and the school faculty, it was certainly bad. He got a piercing on his tongue, but only a small one because, as much as he wanted to prove how tough he was, he was still incredibly nervous and scared. He took up smoking, and now was the official badass of the school. Noah Puckerman tried to challenge this, but it was really no trouble for Blaine, now muscled and strong, to beat him up. He worked so hard to build up an image, to make himself known, to be sort of popular in his own group of friends.

And now, here he was, in _French class, _surrounded by a lot of the school nerds and girls who didn't even appeal to him. Normally, he would be excited about this, being able to mess with the new teacher who, with his luck, would be some old woman who'd hit him. But the fact that he had gotten almost no sleep because of his pain in the ass little sister ("I'm only two years younger than you!" the all too familiar voice screeched in his mind) keeping him up, blasting music, this was not the case.

And it wasn't even _good _music, all techno and heavy metal garbage. No matter how many times he had hollered at her to turn that shit _off, _she wouldn't listen, and eventually she started screaming along to the lyrics. When he finally collapsed and fell asleep, his phone alarm startled him back to consciousness after only twenty minutes. Forgetting to set it again, he overslept for at least another hour, making him late for school. (And _yes, _he actually tried going to school…sometimes.)

So right now, he was really not in the mood for this.

"Fuck off Lopez," he sneered at her. "And don't touch my hair."

Santana, obviously not taking him seriously, snorted and reached out to teasingly touch him on the head. He grabbed her arm when it was almost brushing his hair and shoved it away again.

"Jesus!" Santana exclaimed, in pain, surprise, and in anger. "Touchy, touchy."

Ignoring the comment and his best friend, Blaine shut his eyes, deciding that he would rather catch up on his sleep in this class, since he didn't care much for this subject anyways. Santana, pulling out a stick of gum and chewing on it, considered kicking Blaine's chair, but she really didn't want Blaine's wrath brought upon her, so she decided not to.

He could hear the click of the door opening, announcing a new arrival, a quiet shuffling of feet, and he assumed the newcomer was probably his teacher. Cracking his right eye open, he looked towards the front of the room. Almost right away, his eyes snapped open when he actually _saw _the teacher.

"Wow, he is _attractive," _Santana observed, grinning and sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.

Blaine almost lost his cool composure and sat up quickly, looking attentively at the newcomer. He was wearing glasses, which didn't hide the fact that he had amazingly blue eyes, and he pushed them onto his nose every couple of seconds. His hair was cropped up, looking messy, but in an incredibly put-together way; the vest he was wearing was incredibly tight, showing just how thin he was. A tie was loosely tied around his neck, and all Blaine wanted to do was pull on it, see the pale skin of his neck strain under the pressure, and make him gasp in surprise with his pretty lips opening slightly.

_Wow, there's no way he's our teacher, there's no way he's __**real**_**, **_is he real_? Santana elbowed him in the side, and he grimaced when he realized that he had just said that all out loud.

Getting over the initial surprise of the arrival, Blaine smirked and looked to Santana, writing down a 10 on the small slip of paper she had pulled out. Underneath his scrawl, she put down an 8.5 and he narrowed his eyes at her. She shrugged and put her hand above her head, indicating he was too tall. Blaine watched him taking papers out of a bag, and rested a hand on his chin. "I don't think so," he said to her, not bothering to be quiet, even though class had started.

Their teacher turned and looked around the room, his gaze stopping at Blaine for a little longer than necessary, the expression on his face unreadable. Then he smiled, looking away. "Hello class," he started, and Blaine had to bite his tongue to stop himself from making an undignified noise. His voice was perfect, and it certainly fit the man. Blaine glanced at Santana who was already looking at him, fanning herself.

"Wow" she mouthed.

The man up front narrowed his eyes at the pair of them, and Blaine would bet that he was considering whether he should split them up or not. He just grinned cheekily and waved. "Is there a problem, Mr…?"

"Anderson, sir," Blaine responded, leering. "And no, there's no problem _at all." _Everyone turned, confused, to look at him, and he swore he saw the teacher blush before he turned again and started writing on the board.

"Okay, good to know," he muttered, more to himself than the class, but still earning a few chuckles from the students. "Anyways," he finished writing on the board. "I am Kurt Hummel, your teacher for this year. I'm new to this district, so I guess I'll need to explain how it works in here." He seated himself on top of the front desk, crossing his legs. "I feel like you are a good class, for the most part," he added, glancing towards Blaine again, "so I would like to get to know you all better. I feel that it will help if you call me by my first name. Plus, Mr. Hummel sounds too formal for me at the moment." He laughed to himself, and looked around. "So, just call me Kurt. If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask, that's why I'm here- yes mr. Anderson?"

"Blaine," Blaine said, lowering his arm. "And I wanted to know, how old are you?" He was crossing a line and he knew it. Everyone knew not to mess with new teachers, because it could affect how they taught for the rest of the year. But he couldn't help it.

A couple people in front of him laughed, while Kurt just smiled, looking like he was hiding his discomfort. "I am 24 at the moment, and don't plan on getting any older to be honest," was all he said. Blaine widened his eyes in surprise at the honest answer. "Any other questions?" he asked, pointing his attention away from the teen. As the other students started asking pointless questions like usual, Blaine and Santana delved into a conversation about what they were going to do to mess with him.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Blaine said. "Maybe he's just playing nice, and then a couple weeks in, he'll bite."

"Well that's good because you know what?" Santana lowered her voice to a low growl, leaning close to Blaine's face. "We'll just have to bite _right back." _ They laughed and looked forward to realize the whole class was staring at them, including the teacher.

"What?" Blaine asked snippily.

"Are you done?" Kurt asked him cooly, and Blaine felt a sliver of annoyance, and another feeling he couldn't decipher. All he knew was that he didn't like that tone on him.

"We sure are," he responded, looking almost guilty. Kurt continued answering a question a girl Jessica asked until the bell rang, signaling the end of the period.

"Okay, make sure to bring your textbooks tomorrow everyone!" Kurt shouted over the hum of chatter as people left the room. Blaine made sure to take his time getting up, watching Kurt out of the corner of his eyes. As soon as they exited the room, Blaine making sure to sway his hips on the way out, he turned to Santana excitedly. "Oh this is going to be a _fantastic _year."


	2. Chapter 2

**This is unedited, so sorry for any mistakes you find! And sorry for posting so late, I just finished it, and I needed to get it up right now! This honestly went in a totally different direction than I intended, but I thought it turned out pretty well. **

**Oh and a great big thanks to Amanda who read the beginning for me and gave me her opinions on everything and helped me out so so much. And of course, thanks to Sabrina for the original prompt!**

**a break line in this chapter indicates a flashback/time gap**

**Enjoy! (And remember, reviews are love!)**

As soon as the last class was dismissed for the day, Kurt let out a long sigh and all but collapsed into his chair. Rubbing his face, he started shoving papers from his brand new desk into his bag. He was new to teaching, only graduating from college two years ago before getting the job at his old high school, McKinley. Everyone always thought he would be too scared to come back, but he proved them all wrong.

At least he was fortunate enough not to receive a great amount of kids who would give him issues in his classes.

Except, unfortunately, he had gotten Blaine Anderson. The teachers all had warned Kurt about him, even Sue Sylvester, who had softened just the least bit since they had last chatted. Most teachers reacted oddly when they received news of Kurt's new student, especially the loud chorus teacher Rachel Berry, who just happened to also have been Kurt's best friend in high school. Well, his only friend really.

She had started her job earlier than him, and had already been warned about the boy, though she never actually had Blaine as a student, and it was really only fair that she cautioned Kurt as well.

"Kurt, I'm warning you, that boy will make you want to tear your gorgeous hair out," she said in a serious voice as they sat down for coffee one morning per usual. She was as exuberantly annoying as ever, and dressed to kill in a short white least she had gotten a bit of fashion sense as she grew older. She had long abandoned her tacky sweaters when a few Neanderthals in college teased her for days, taking pictures and scribbling on them, calling her a kindergartener. The next week, she arrived looking as if she had stepped out of a photo-shoot, with perfect makeup and hot-as-hell clothes that made nearly every guy's jaws drop, even more so her tormentors. It's too bad for them that they had made fun of her in the first place, because after her transformation, whenever they asked her out, she would laugh in their faces. Rachel Berry most certainly was not one to forgive and forget easily.

"It's too bad, according to Figgins and Emma; he used to be such a sweet boy." She frowned, stirring milk into her own coffee as violently as ever, making the cup quiver with force.

"Rach, one, nothing would ever make me tear my hair out," he said this with a swipe of a finger to fix a loose strand of hair. "_Ever. _And two, I'm pretty sure I can handle him." He took a sip of his coffee, marveling in the taste. "Oh sweet Jesus I love whoever invented coffee." Rachel laughed at him as he took another gulp and groaned low in his throat, sounding oddly like sex noises, but Rachel wasn't about to point that out.

"Well they're probably dead," Rachel snipped instead, watching a young couple arguing heatedly on the sidewalk right outside of the window and rolling her eyes and pointing discreetly. "But seriously Kurt. Santana isn't a walk in the park to teach either, she might even be worse. You will most likely have her at the same time as Blaine because _somehow _she convinces them to let her switch classes." Kurt shrugged. He most definitely did not want to know what Santana had to do in order to switch her schedule around. He was a little worried about teaching Blaine, though. Shaking his head, he pursed his lips silently in grim determination. He handled a school full of homophobes and a judgmental world his whole life.

He could handle Blaine Anderson. He could handle this.

"I don't think I can handle this."

Blaine was, at the moment, sprawled out on the school bleachers, watching Santana take slow drags of her cigarette with a sour look on his face. Though he actually hated smoking, thought it was gross and unhealthy, he pretended to do it for the sake of his image. His _image. _Sometimes the thought that he now cared about other people's opinion made him sick. But it kept him safe and alive, at least for now.

That's exactly what it was though, _faking_. Faking everything. He had fooled everyone by just simply having a package out during school hours. Within the day, rumor had gone around that he was a chain smoker, going straight through 3 packages a day. One story even reached his ears when someone claimed to another student behind him that he had once almost killed someone because they stole his favorite lighter. Since word had already started spreading, Blaine just decided to go along with it, keeping a cigarette in his mouth sometimes just to make himself even more convincing.

Of course, Santana was the only one who knew the truth. She oddly never tried to convince him to smoke, and he never asked her why that was. He just assumed that it was because she understood. She always understood.

"What up your ass, Anderson?" Santana questioned before taking a huff from the smoke. The smoke billowed out of her mouth as she coughed, Blaine lightly patting her back in sympathy. "I know it's not new teacher Hummel," she said with a wink and another deep cough.

"You really shouldn't smoke either 'Tan."

"Shut up mother," she snipped, and he sighed, lifting his hands up in silent surrender, and she looked guilty. Blaine only let himself open up to her, and gave his sympathy to her. _He used to be so fucking nice, _she sometimes found herself thinking, feeling a pang of regret every time. Sometimes, though, she would get flashes of the caring, sweet boy that Blaine really was.

She loved those moments, living for the quick flicker of concern, or the genuine smiles directed her way that he let slip. To be quite honest, she hated the new person he had become; the shell of the terrific boy he had once been, the one that she herself had created.

* * *

><p>"Hi Santana!" Blaine greeted happily, waving slightly even though they were only a few feet apart now. Her eyes took in his outfit, as unbelievably asinine as normal, but she found it incredibly endearing.<p>

"Hey kiddo," she grinned in return, rubbing his hair, laughing when he scowled.

"We're the _same age, _'Tan," he sighed out, probably his millionth time telling her this, hoping she would get the point.

"I know, just fucking with you-" she cut off with a gasp when Blaine was suddenly covered head-to-toe with red and blue slush. His cute dimply smile flickered away and he inhaled sharply at the cold sensation, blinking rapidly, but then clamping them shut when the slushy started stinging his eyes. He was quivering from the cold drink onslaught, looking so small and embarrassed that Santana _growled_, so angry that her vision went white.

Santana stomped after the jocks who had thrown the slushies as Blaine yelled after her desperately, standing still from shock in the sticky mess and not completely able to open his eyes. She grabbed one of the guy's shoulders, digging her nails in so sharply that he hissed, turning around to face her. His face looked fearful for a millisecond when he saw the furious cheerleader facing him, but it turned into a mask of mockery. "May we help you?" he asked, so sickly polite that Santana couldn't hold herself back longer and she slapped him _hard, _so hard his head flew to the side, and scratch marks from her killer nails marred his cheek.

"You _fuck;_ I swear to God if you touch him again, I will _murder you_! I will pull the razorblades out and get Puckerman, and I will KILL YOU!" She screeched at him, not even bothering with the other boy, who looked rightly terrified already. If her threat wasn't enough to scare them, telling them she would get Puck involved would assure they would never give Blaine problems again. About ready to charge at him, she was stopped by a sticky hand on her arm. Furious, she turned to see Blaine.

"San, it's okay, it's alright," he said hurriedly. The jocks made their getaway, thankful for the distraction, nearly tripping over each other to escape Santana's wrath. "Don't worry about them," he mumbled with a small, sad smile. "Everyone does this to the unpopular kids here, remember?" He lifted his arms before dropping them, contorting his face at the sound it made.

"No, they don't get to do this to you, I won't let them!" Santana was still so mad; she couldn't see how Blaine flinched at her shouting. "Why the fuck are you letting them do this to you Blaine, why are you so forgiving? One of these days, something so bad is going to happen, you won't survive, and don't tell me you'd just forgive them for that shit!"

"I just don't want you getting in trouble for me, Santana," he mumbled lowly, looking down, and if his face wasn't covered in slush, Santana would have seen that it was burning in shame. "It's my fault I can't defend myself, I can't do anything to stop them."

"Are you kidding, Blaine? Don't you dare blame yourself for what they did to you!" She wouldn't hear any of this. Blaine was too sweet to have to deal with all the guilt and issues piled on each shoulder. Eventually it was going to cause him to crash down, hard. Her anger pushed through the rational part of her brain and the words were out before she could stop herself. "Stop being such a fucking wimp!"

Blaine looked at her, surprised, before pain littered his face and he was walking away before she could even try apologizing. "Wait- Blaine!" His head bowed even farther down, and she could have sworn she saw him sob before he turned the corner. She clenched her fists. Now it wasn't directed towards Blaine's tormentors, though, only at herself.

* * *

><p>When Santana heard news about Blaine nearly beating those same two hockey players to death, she sped to his house, breaking the speed limit more than a couple times. From what she had heard, they threw another round of slushies at Blaine again, and he just snapped, finally letting them feel what they had been dishing out for so long.<p>

She let herself in, knowing no one was home and running up to Blaine's room. He was on his laptop, calmly scrolling down a word document.

"Homework," he said in a monotone. Santana sat on his bed, trying to find the words to start off with.

"Blaine, what-"

"What happened?" Blaine asked for her, voice still a little dull and calm. "Remember those guys? The ones who threw the slushies last week? Well they decided to give me another little surprise today after lunch. So I decided to stop being a "fucking wimp-" he made air quotes with his fingers, "and I kicked their asses."

Santana was shocked; she had never heard Blaine talk that way, never so _unhappy. _He was always happy. Even the swears coming out of his mouth sounded foreign to her. "Come on Blaine, this isn't you talking. This isn't you. I know you, you would never-"

"Well I guess it's who I am now," Blaine snapped, finally turning to face her, and she gaped at the purple bruise covering his cheekbone. "It's who I have to be."

Santana felt horrible for doing this to her best friend. Maybe someday, Blaine will find the courage to be able to be himself once again. But for now, she would try her best to be there for him as much as she can. "It's harder to quit than it looks, Blaine," Blaine knew Santana was serious because of the usage of his first name, and he rested a hand on his knee, giving his attention to her. "You should just start telling everyone you quit so you don't have to keep up this _act _anymore."

Blaine frowned; gazing at the sun setting now, his eyes squinted. He shrugged. "I'll do it if you quit."

"That's kind of unfair, don't you think?" Santana asked him, knocking his leg with her own.

"I don't think so," Blaine smirked. "You don't get to die as early this way. Is it a deal?" He held out a hand.

Santana considered him for a second before giving in. "I guess so." She held out her hand as well. They linked their fingers together before tearing them apart, fist pumping and then punching each other on the opposite arm. Now that they had initiated the handshake, the deal was official. Blaine took his and Santana's packages of smokes and tossed them into the garbage can before returning and seating himself again.

"So," Santana started with a smirk. "Let's talk about that new teacher."


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay so I saw people were getting frustrated over the lack of updates on my stories, and I'm truly sorry. I'm really trying to write, but instead of actually writing new chapters of my WIPS, my brain seems to like thinking of completely new ideas and I have 12 new ideas that I have written down. So I'm still writing, don't worry, it's just that I'm trying to alternate between school, helping other people out with school, blah blah blah. But I'm not abandoning anything (okay don't be angry at me but DTD is something I might not write for a while). **

**And my apologies for this being such a short chapter, I will try my damndest to make sure the next chapter is written ASAP. **

**Enjoy!**

Kurt stormed into the room clutching all of his things under one arm and a coffee in his other hand, dropping some papers and cursing under his breath. The damn girl who had made his coffee took_ forever_- he was certainly going to report her to the manager when he found the time- and made him late. His eye doctor had also screwed up the prescription on his new contacts so he had to wear his glasses once again, and he had to keep pushing them up his nose constantly, which, needless to say, irritated him. _How did I even live with these damn things?_

"Okay class," Kurt clapped his hands together as he spun to face his students, wincing when he realized that he just pulled a Mr. Schue. _Shit. _He adjusted his glasses again, sighing. He rolled his eyes when he saw Blaine, seated right up front, compared to all the way in the back like usual. His smile was wolfish and Santana's was not any different, though it seemed to have much less of an affect than Blaine's did- of course not, why would it anyways?

Determined not to let himself get distracted, Kurt grabbed his slip of paper with names on it, and took roll call. When he called Blaine's name out (unnecessarily because he obviously was aware that Blaine was present), the boy leaned forward in his chair, licked his lips, and said "here," dropping the tone of his voice into a sort of growl. Kurt paused for a second, halting over the next name, mouth stuttering, but didn't let it distract him all that much, and continued with the list. Blaine leaned back in his seat, a disappointed scowl on his face at not getting as much of a reaction as he'd been hoping for.

Kurt grabbed a pile of quizzes off of his desk. "Okay, now I have a quick little quiz for you guys," he started passing them out, "don't worry, it's just to see how much you know already, to see what I have to focus on a teacher." He smiled reassuringly. "It shouldn't be that difficult, and you don't have to answer a question if you don't know it."

Blaine stared intently at him the whole time the quizzes were out, which was extremely distracting to say the least. Kurt tried, he really did, to ignore it, but eventually he sighed, irritated. "Is there something on my face?" he asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

A majority of the students looked up surprised, and shook their heads. Some muttered "no" and went back to their quiz. Blaine just sat there, also surprised somewhat.

"Then to the people who are staring at my face like the answers are written right here, you should stop." He pointedly glared at Blaine when everyone else had looked back down. The boy smirked, nodding his head once and _winking, _before leaning his head down and falling asleep.

For a small while, Kurt watched him sleep (no, not _that way)_, his irritation growing and causing him to tap his fingers against the wooden top of his desk. Eventually, he made a frustrated growl in the back of his throat and stood up, gaining the attention of the other kids. He took a chair, flipped it so his chest was facing the back of the chair, and sat down. He crossed one of his arms across the top of the chair and barely registered the other students watching as he rolled his other sleeve up partway. Grinning, he opened his hand, made it so his palm was facing the desk and _slammed_ it down hard.

Blaine made a snort and his head snapped up. He looked around shocked, before his attention turned to his teacher.

"Well Mr. Anderson," he smirked. "Glad you could join us again. I was just about to start the first lesson."

Blaine groggily sat up and looked to Santana before smiling at him. "Oh that's okay, we all know how much you missed my attention." Kurt scowled and stood up, pushing the chair back to the side of the room.

"Yes obviously, so much that I'd better see you for detention after school." The class went to chaos, yelling out at Blaine and laughing, some cheering. Blaine raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise said nothing when he crossed his arms, challenging him to say something else.

The rest of the class went by fine. Most of the class remembered what they had learned the previous year, so it wasn't necessary for him to review. Kurt found himself wondering how Blaine ended up taking French 2. When he graded the quizzes as the class talked amongst themselves, he immediately searched for Blaine's; surprised when all of the questions were actually answered, and simply stunned when he saw that they were all _correct. _

He chanced a glance up at Blaine, rolling his eyes when Blaine simply gave a thumb up and wink. Kurt took Blaine's quiz, stuffed it to the bottom and read a book until the end of class. When the bell rang and the students shuffled out, Kurt closed his book and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He squeaked when a hand thumped on his desk.

"So I'll see you in detention _Mr. Hummel_," Blaine purred before walking out, leaving Kurt to sit in stunned silence at his desk.


End file.
